Shuffle
by ProspektsMarch161
Summary: Just a few Tiva songfics. They can be read without the song, there's no storyline or anything, could be angsty, happy, present day, 4 years later...
1. Atlantic

**Hi again :)**

**My other story's sort of been put on hold, so I'm gonna do a few of these songfics. As you probably guessed, they're all about Tiva, whether angsty or happy or three years into the future... anways, I'll post a youtube link to each song on my bio, as well who it's by on here, and I BEG you to listen to the song, 'cos it makes a big difference, whether or not it's your taste.**

**1) Keane - Atlantic **

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Shuffle songs.

Almost Special Agent – scratch that, Agent Afloat – Tony DiNozzo's worst enemy, second to the scum that put it on full blast in the next cabin just to piss him off.

_**I hope all my days**_

_**Will be lit by your face**_

He thought of Ziva. Deep down, far beyond where the Probie could probe or even past where Ziva could torture him to tell, he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

_**I hope all the years**_

_**Will hold tight our promises**_

He'd just assumed it. It was a natural thing, he took it for granted. It was as if he just sort of….knew that they'd end up together. He didn't question it; he didn't try to break off from it; because he didn't want to ruin fate. That's what it was.

_**I don't wanna be old and sleep alone**_

The bed creaked as he turned over on it. He couldn't image being with anyone else. He tried not to imagine her being with anyone else, and he tried not to think of the times when she had, because that would send him spiralling into jealousy and turn him into an asshole, like a replay of what had happened last time.

_**An empty house is not a home**_

That's what this goddamn ship was. Everywhere he turned he saw dark and bare and damp, everywhere he went seemed cold and unfriendly. Maybe it was okay for the sods who had lived on the ship all their miserable lives, but the thought that he'd be stuck in this shell of an abode for his entire working life made him squirm.

He'd been to her place once before, and it had felt like home. The kind of place where everything's slightly shabby and you feel comfortable as soon as you walk in. 007 would flash onto the flat screen TV that he'd nagged her to buy ever since he'd found out she didn't have one, and they'd slump onto the famous no-springs sofa with her D.C.-wide famous chicken curry, and talk about anything from whether McGee was gay to what had happened In Paris, and drop subtle hints about how, one day, it would be _so _romantic to go to Paris with your loved one.

_**I don't wanna be old and feel afraid**_

He hadn't thought about what would happen if she didn't come back, but now he thought about it, it was the most likely outlook. She was in the hands of Mossad and her father, who from what he'd heard, didn't give a flying ass if one of their agents got killed. Mossad suicide mission stories were tiptoed around in the bullpen, but during some tedious-tastic paperwork session there was sometimes nothing else to talk about, and McGee had an awful habit of bringing up Tony's worst nightmares without thinking about it.

_**I don't wanna be old and sleep alone**_

_**An empty house is not a home**_

_**I don't wanna be old and feel afraid**_

The bullpen spun in his mind and billions upon billions of innuendo-soaked conversations played on it as he cursed the British music industry for making their products so emotional.

His thoughts replayed themselves over and over and the realisation that this was probably how the next five or six years of his life was going to run came to him like a smack in the face, along with the fact that the call for food just rang.

"Need anything in there, Floatsie?"

_**And if I need anything at all**_

Yeah, he needed something. He needed _her._

_**I need a place that's hidden in the deep**_

He wanted to be away from these idiots, he wanted to be back in D.C, in a living room that smelt of food and people and real pot pourri. He wanted to be somewhere where no one bothered him; no one could try to get revenge for him firing them; no one could frame him. And if they tried, he would have La Bonita and her awesome ninja skills.

_**Where lonely angels sing you to your sleep**_

He'd heard her sing once. At the end of some awful murder case, Gibbs had sent McGee and him home early, and he'd been walking back into the bullpen to get his forgotten phone. She'd looked beautiful in the orange light of the sun setting over the Navy Yard, and he remembered his breath catching as her hair shimmered back at him like an invite.

She was still working, and since, in her knowledge, no one else was in hearing distance, she had turned on iTunes and started singing – well, maybe 3 months at sea with whoever-it-was's music taste next to him had corrupted his memory of it – but he remembered it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

He hadn't gone back for his phone, because it seemed like a mortal sin to interrupt her.

_**Though all the world is broken**_

_**I need a place where I can make my bed**_

_**A lovers' lap where I can lay my head**_

He'd stayed at her place once.

Abby's birthday party was more than an invitation to get drunk, and after his partner had driven him back to her own place, it was evident that he wasn't able to drive. So he'd stayed put. She didn't have a guest bedroom, and if you slept on her couch you were asking for a bad back the next morning, so he'd slept in her bed. With her.

She didn't snore then. Sure, he could see the hand that stayed slid under her pillow holding the ever-present SIG, but she slept calmly, and when he was still trying to get to sleep at 0300hrs, and when he was watching her breathing and looking at her face in the moonlight, his mind kid him that this was how he lived, and he couldn't help feeling that this was his perfect world. Everything was calm, no Gibbs, no Vance, no one bugging him.

Just the two of them.

His phone suddenly buzzed, and, sighing, he didn't bother to look at the display.

"Special Age–Sorry_, Agent_ _Afloat_–," he almost spat the words, "Anthony DiNozzo speaking"

He heard breathing, and then the phone went dead.

He shut the phone, and didn't look at the caller I.D.

_**Cause now the room is spinning…**_

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**Hope you enjoyed!**

**Lottie x**


	2. Manhattan

**Disclaimer: I don't own CBS, NCIS, or Manhattan, or the Kings of Leon. I can only dream.**

**Sorry I've been so long updating, but all my time has been spent pretending to revise for my ICT mock :S**

**anyway, a couple of reviews (of which there were a lot, thankyou!) gave the impression that people were expecting to see a continuation of the first chapter's story, which this isn't, but I can do the next chapter as the next bit of that if public opinion leans that way :)**

**This one's set to Manhattan by the Kings of Leon and the link to the song on youtube will go into my bio as usual. PLEASE listen to the song, it makes SO much difference! especially with this one, you get more of a feel to it. Otherwise the lyrics are just random words.**

**enjoy!**

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_**Well **_

A wave of Tuxedos, some spattered with navy badges, and elegant party dresses splashed out onto the night air of the D.C. Street from the ballroom.

Agents paired off with other agents, some younger ones went in groups, and a couple of high-ranking naval officers, the SecNav included, started the journey home to bored teenage babysitters.

McGee had his arm linked through the forensic scientist's, and navy wives in long gowns passed the goth-girl's black and red ultra-short puff dress with raised eyebrows. McGee turned to the senior field agent.

"Uh...Tony, I'm heading home with Abby. See you on Monday, or if you, uh, want to meet up –"

The Italian laughed. "I do have a social life Probie Wan. Don't do anything I wouldn't do" he winked. Abby squealed and Tim rolled his eyes before they headed off into the street-lamp glow.

_**I could dance all night**_

DiNozzo turned away the dispersing crowd and managed a few steps before a familiar hand touched his shoulder and a familiar accent slinked up to his ear.

"Not going home alone, are you?"

He turned to face her.

_**And some of the day**_

"I...didn't figure there was anyone to go with"

The knee-length silky maroon dress swished past him and started walking to the riverside sidewalk. He stood, head tilted, in admiration for a couple of seconds before what she had silently proposed dawned on him, and he jogged to walk alongside her.

_**That's how I play  
That's how I play**_

"This tux was not meant for running" He panted, and he noticed a smile forming on her beautiful face.

"Why, is it too tight?" Her dark eyes drifted subtly downwards.

His laugh wasn't the snide one that she often heard after McSomething jokes, but a deeper one, one that seemed to echo in her ears for a long time after she'd first heard it.

"Says the girl wearing the beautiful dress of beautiful dresses –"

He stopped, and he turned only to see her eyes staring back at him, trying to find the meaning in what he had said.

_**I say who are you  
No matter who you are**_

The silent moment of awkwardness ended between them, and he mirrored her steps as she started walking again.

"Have you ever been dancing?"

"I used to, a lot, but not in a long time. Never since I left Israel"

He braved a request.

"Can...can I see?"

She narrowed her brown pearls at him.

_**So you dance all night**_

"I need someone to dance with; otherwise I end up looking like a humpty"

He grinned.

"Numpty, Ziva, _Numpty_. I'll do it with you" His choice of words whacked his head like a baseball bat, but apparently had the opposite effect on her.

She stopped walking, the dress stopped swishing, and, without emotional warning, she looped her arms round his neck and onto his shoulders. Tony looked at the brown curls cascading over her shoulders and the dark eyes looking straight into his, and decided to ignore the little voice screaming warnings at him inside his head.

_**And you dance all day**_

He slid two hands round her waist, and he wasn't sure whether it was the cold, the beautiful night, or the fact that he had the most beautiful agent in Mossad and NCIS combined– who, to make matters worse, he was horribly in love with– literally all over him, that gave him shivers down his spine.__

I say

"Ready?"

_**I say**_

He led, not fast but not slow, and although there was no music, he felt feeling rushing through him with both her and his every step.__

These avenues and  
These reservoirs  
We gonna show this town  
How to kiss these stars

This beautiful ritual carried on for what seemed like years, and although – thankfully – there were no cars on D.C. streets at 0200, he felt like there were things watching him everywhere. Things telling him not to go any further, because if he did it wouldn't end well. Things that told him rule 12 was there for a reason.

_**I say  
I say**_

The co-ordinated elegance of the earlier dancing had turned to a laughing, dancing collage that Tony thought could have come out of a Nicole Kidman movie set in Manhattan.

She moved gracefully, he moved next to her, and the routine finally fell apart as they reached the Francis Scott Key Bridge. He had his arms round her waist and they broke away as the whine of a container flowed beneath them.

_**You've come to kill  
Gonna spend it high**_

"You're amazing at that" He smiled breathlessly, running his hands through his hair.

She did the same with hers, probably slightly more aesthetically than him, and leant against the waist-height wall stopping her falling 20 metres into freezing water.

"You are not bad. In fact, you are quite good" she admitted, giving him a smile that made his heart jump into his mouth.

If only she could say that was true about something other than dancing.

_**A young man's grief**_

Breathless and pink, she chucked off her stilettos and started skipping down the pavement, giving the senior field agent a start.

"Wait up! I can't go that fast!" he yelled, speeding into a pathetic jog.

She slowed down and turned back to him. "Clearly the 50 dollars you paid for your gym membership was a waste of money," She snickered, "because you run like a ten-year-old."

Her smile faded when she saw the evil grin on his face.

"Oh, do I?"

_**And the way I ride**_

Suddenly he launched off at full pace, catching her up and pulling her into him as he curled an arm round her waist.

"Hey!" His partner jabbed him painfully in the ribs, which wasn't hard from such close proximity. "Cheater"

_**And then talking to you  
Well they calm you down**_

"I would never..." Soft brown eyes gazing into his made him tail off, and his eyes became ultra-focused on the beautiful face about an inch from his.

_**So it's all for you**_

His arms tightened around her.

_**I say**_

His eyes saw nothing but light and dark.

_**I say**_

His lips met hers.

_**I say**_

Memories flooded back trying to overcome the moment, but he soon realised nothing could ever, ever match what he was feeling in that moment. One hand moved from her waist to become tangled in her curls, and he pulled her into him as tightly as he could as she looped her arms around his neck.

The bare surface of his mind told him he was doing wrong, that this wasn't supposed to happen, and that he'd be sorry if it ever went wrong. But deep down inside him he knew it was right. The smell of her hair, the sound of her voice, everything down to her ninja fighting skills.

Much to his despair it couldn't last forever, and as they broke apart, breathless for the second but – hopefully he thought - by no means the last time that night, he caught a glint in her eyes that was offering a promise of more.

_**Just wanna take you hand**_

"Listen...I'm going home. Are you coming too?"

_**I'm gonna drive you home**_

They both already knew the answer to his murmured question, but he told himself that he had to ask. It was confirmation, something that said she was coming with him, and it told him he wasn't going to lose her again.

_**Just gonna keep on**_

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm coming with you"

_**Keep on  
Keep on**_

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**Hope you liked it! The blue button calls, as ever.....**

**L xx**


	3. The Bones Of You

**Disclaimer: I don't own CBS, NCIS, or Elbow.**

**Hi again :)**

**Sorry I haven't updated in so long! It just sort of takes a while to find the right song. This is set 4 1/2 years in the future (5 years after judgement day) - Tony and Ziva are living together, and so are McGee and Abby for all the McAbby fans out there.**

**Anyways, It's set to "The Bones of You" by Elbow, and as usual I beg you to listen to the song because it really has an impact, even if it's not your taste. I'll put a youtube link up on my profile ASAP.**

**This is dedicated to BritishNinjaChick for her awesome ideas and for being my virtual-beta!**

**Enjoy! xx**

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_**So I'm there**_

He's there. Not for the first time.

_**Charging around with a juggernaut brow**_

He's not quite sure which stupid tunnel he's running down this time, and he's not sure whether it's the one that leads where he wants, but it's something to do and somewhere to go, so he sticks to his duty and sprints down the hollow paths that make home.

_**Overdraft, speeches and deadlines to make**_

"Whoa! Floatie! Watch where you're going, huh?" He ignores the remark, but slows to a lope and runs a hand through his hair, relishing in the disorder that he causes to the rumbling machine all around him and the people inside it.

One of his favourite sarcasm–laced responses is called for. "I'm delivering a package, Jeffers. Don't like it? Talk to your buddies in the cabin above mine, ask them if _maybe _they could turn their music up louder – my eardrums haven't quite burst yet"

_**Cramming commitments like cats in a sack**_

"I'll be sure to mention it to your senior agent, Floatie!"

He curses his luck. Of course he had to talk back to his senior agent's best buddies.

But what could be worse than what he is now?

_**Telephone burn and a purposeful gait**_

He sighs as he picks up the receiver. He knows who's on the other end, and he knows what they're going to say.

"Ah, Special Agent DiNozzo." The words are stretched out, as if to lengthen the torture of knowing he's done something wrong. "I understand there've been some misunderstandings with some of my men?"

The conversation is like a principal and pupil's, until he makes a last resounding apology and hangs up.

Her brown eyes stare out at him from his noticeboard – the board of memories, he likes to call it – and he feels like she's telling him off too. Telling him off for giving up.

_**When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch**_

He hears music through the cracks of his room's mouldy walls. Not the thumping Guerrilla-beat of the Latinos above him, but a twangy guitar and a low voice that he knows well.

_**Of a song that I know**_

The vibrations in the metal echo with familiarity, and he notices that the grey of the metal is fading slowly, giving way to a creamy colour lit up in orange.

_**And the world moves in slow-mo**_

His mind spins.

He flops down flat onto his bed, trying to make sense of the changes around him.

_**Straight to my head**_

_**like the first cigarette of the day**_

His eyes close, and he's not cold any more, he's not damp, he's not subjected to rumbles and thumps and beats.

Everything's peaceful, and he opens his eyes and smiles.

_**And it's you, and it's May**_

"Tony?" The voice repeats, and he turns his head and she's there.

_**And we're sleeping through the day**_

Not hidden behind the oasis-like illusion of a photo, but slid under the duvet next to him with her toes poking out of the end.

Her face is illuminated by the gentle Sunday-morning-sunlight orange seeping in through the cracks in the curtains, and he lets out a breath as he watches her eyelashes flutter, still half-asleep.

It dawns on him that he hasn't spoken for about 3 minutes and tries to come up with an answer to explain what has just run through his dreams.

But he realises that he doesn't need to, and says it straight, propping himself up on his elbows and twirling a couple of strands of her hair round his fingers.

_**And I'm five years ago**_

_**And three thousand miles away**_

_**Do I have time?**_

_**A man of my calibre**_

"Sorry. I was Four and a half years ago, three thousand miles away"

They both know the when and the where.

She swipes his hand away, more of a loving swat, and rolls on top of him.

"Need something to bring you back to reality?" She grins, and he lets out a throaty laugh.

His hands are locked at her waist, and he flips the pair over again so he looks down at her hair spread out over the pillows.

"I don't know if we have time, sweetcheeks. When are the Probie and Abby coming for lunch?"

_**Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager**_

_**No.**_

_**And I dealt with this years ago**_

_**I took a hammer to every memento**_

"I do not know for sure, but Abby said about 10 o'clock, I think"

She falls into fits of laughter at his horrified face when he sees the time and swishes out of bed.

"I was joking, my little hairy butt. I think it is what you call...Brain Games?"

"Mind games" He corrects, climbing back under the sheets and running a hand through his partner's hair, mementoes of wrong idioms coming back.

"They could have been out on the street, wondering why we're not answering the door!" She laughs again at her own brand of mind game, and he shakes his head as he leans in to kiss her.

_**But image on image like beads on a rosary**_

_**pulled through my head as the music takes hold**_

He hadn't noticed the music playing through the dimly sunlit room, and as she traces a finger across his lips he is swallowed in the harmony of the moment and the music's twists and turns.

_**and the sickener hits, I can work till I break**_

_**but I love the bones of you**_

And when he's kissing her, and he hears memories conveyed through lyrics in a song, all he can think of is her, and how he finds it hard to function without her, and how he could lie there forever with her.

She's a blockade on bad dreams. She stops them when they happen, then she jolts him back to reality in more ways than one.

_**That, I will never escape**_

The passion of the scene drifts away with his thoughts, and before he knows it they're lying tangled together again, and he can hear her quiet snoring and see her chest rise and fall under the duvet in the low, orange sun. It's his sign of comfort.

_**And I can't move my arm**_

_**Through the fear that you will wake**_

He doesn't wake her, because if he does she'll rain ninja hell on him, and he'll be disturbing the peace that makes the moments like this assure him of the fact that this is where he belongs.

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**Hope you liked! Blue button calls! L xx**


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